Of Violet Eyes and A God of Lies
by The-First-Step
Summary: Alva was a child when she fled to Asgard, a mere child running from everything she'd ever known or loved. Left alone in the world she becomes close to a certain Asgardian Prince, who has his own dark destiny to follow. As the lines between good and evil are blurred Alva must decide if following her heart is worth loosing everything. Pre-Thor, Thor and follows through into Avengers.
1. Alva of Alfheim

**Alva of Alfheim**

**So this is chapter one of my newest Loki/OC fic. I'm giving the Thorverse a whirl because, quite frankly the movie is amazing and I, like many others, have fallen in love with the wonderful Tom Hiddleston's depiction of Loki. This story will incorporate the Thor movie and Avengers movie as well as pre-Thor creativity of my own design. I hope you enjoy it and as a necessary disclaimer… I do not own any of these characters apart from Alva and any others that you do not recognise from the movies. Thanks and enjoy.**

Alva POV:**  
**

"Papa, must we do this?" Alva whispered anxiously as she pressed against her father's side, using his great body as a shield against the freezing winds that tore at them from all directions. She was so cold. Her bones ached with it but there was a strange numbness in her hands, feet and face. The fact that she couldn't feel any of them meant that her limbs were in real danger of developing frostbite but she pressed on, trying to keep up with her father's enormous strides. Dying out here sure beat dying back there… like her mother. Her Papa sighed and wrapped his arm protectively around her petite frame, pulling her as close to him as he could in an effort to keep her warm. It did little to starve off the chill of the blizzard. Her teeth chattered audibly and her face was wind chapped and pink with cold. Alva stared up into his beloved face and tried to be as brave as she could, he needed her to be brave.

"I am sorry Papa… I tire of this cold." She said quietly and he shook his head mournfully. Squeezing her shoulders gently he paused to look down at her.

"You know we cannot stop Alva; we must press on to Asgard. Only there will we be safe." He said sternly and the small girl nodded tiredly, her enormous violet eyes blinking rapidly as she fought off her obvious exhaustion. Her hand closed around his and he began to walk again, tugging her along behind him. Twice she stumbled in the snow and twice he was forced to stop.

"Is it far Papa?" She asked softly, her voice barely audible over the howling, snow-filled winds. Without another word her wearied father hoisted her up into his strong arms and began to carry her up the mountain, body bent almost double as he toiled determinedly upwards through the knee deep snow.

"I can walk Father." She argued but he silenced her with a firm look. "There will be time for that later." He said and she nodded reluctantly, feeling incredibly young again as he carried her further uphill. Alva's eyes closed and she snuggled into her Papa's chest, glad to have finally stopped walking. She didn't know how long they travelled, the cold and her exhaustion forced her to sleep and time was inevitably lost to her. When she did wake however, it was to her father's voice.

"Wake Alva, we have reached the border." He murmured and slowly, allowing her a little more time to awaken; eased her back down to the ground. Alva stared around them in wonder. The cave mouth sheltered them from the harrowing winds and she huddled against her father, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his side.

"What must we do?" She asked and felt more than saw her father shrug.

"Wait for the storm to pass, and hope that Heimdall has seen us." He answered thinly and Alva frowned, drawing back to look up at him in confusion.

"I thought the All-Father's name was Odin." She said bewilderedly and he chuckled, pulling her with him to one of the cave walls and slumping against the rough wall. She crept onto his lap and rested her head against his firm chest, hearing the rapid, uneven pounding of his heart beneath her ear.

"Yes Alva, that is correct, Odin is the All-Father however, Heimdall is the guardian of the Bifrost, only with his permission may we cross into Asgard." He explained and Alva nodded, not quite understanding. Surely the All-Father would be able to by-pass this Heimdall's powers. He was after all, The All-Father.

"Couldn't we just ask him now?" She asked instead and her father sighed morosely.

"It would be better to wait until this storm has passed, that way we will know if we have been followed." He said and she nodded, understanding that part well enough. She snuggled against him.

"Papa?" she asked and he grunted sleepily. She looked up into his face, memorising every detail. The man she saw had once been very handsome and the traces of youthful beauty still clung to his face, when it wasn't offset by the deep lines of sorrow and tinges of grey that flecked his dark beard and hair. Storm grey eyes peered down at her drowsily and Alva felt guilty for making him stay awake when he so obviously needed rest.

"I love you." She said softly and his lips curved up into a faint smile as he pulled her hood back to run a hand through her thick red hair. Hair she'd inherited from her mother.

"And I love you Alva, more than anything else in all the Nine Realms." He said and she smiled, re-burying her face into his chest. Strong arms wrapped around her and she relaxed. As her eyes closed and she fell into sleep, she found her thoughts drifting pleasantly back to golden times when her mother still lived, they still had their home and her fingers weren't prickling with cold.

OoOoOoO

When Alva awoke, the world had gone silent. At first she thought her ears had stopped working. Terrified that the blizzard had robbed her of the ability to hear she scrambled quickly to her feet. As her thoughts cleared and the fog of sleep rapidly lifted, she realised that it was merely the absence of wind she heard. Sighing with relief she turned back to her father and smiled when she saw he was still asleep. She felt the press of her bladder and looked around for somewhere to go about her business. She moved deeper into the cave and hurriedly finished what she had to do, returning to her father's side as quickly as she could. Her body was wracked with shivers, now that the blizzard was gone and she'd stopped moving. The numbness that had spread through her body during their long trek had passed, leaving her with the razor sharp prickling sensation that came with returned feeling. She shifted painfully from boot to boot, rubbing her chilled hands together as she stared down at her father.

"Papa." She called softly, frowning when he didn't respond. Clearing her throat she tried again, crouching down and shaking him slightly.

"Papa?" She called and a note of panic crept in on the end when she still couldn't rouse him.

"PAPA!" She screamed and staggered back when all she received from him was a painful moan. Sobs broke from her as she tumbled to the packs they'd dumped by the wall last night and riffled through them until she found his water flask. Blinded by tears she raced back to him, unstopping the water skin and holding it to her father's lips. The only thing it succeeding in doing was cascading down his front, possibly making him colder than before.

"Papa, wake up!" She demanded, shaking him fiercely. He didn't wake, and this time not even a moan escaped his lips. His colour was gone and in the dimness of the cave she saw the gauntness of his cheeks stand out starkly, making her think of skulls she'd seen littered across ravaged battlefields back home. She sat back on her rump, unable to move, unable to think. What could she do? They were supposed to get to Asgard, together. How could she get there if he didn't show her? How could she rouse him long enough to ask?

"Think Alva." She commanded and bit her lip as she stared at his motionless form. Last night they had been waiting until the storm passed, waiting to know if they'd been followed. With a gasp she shot up from the ground like a loaded arrow and bounded to the mouth of the cave. Peering out cautiously, she observed the landscape around their cave. A world of white met her gaze, the sunlight overhead showing every feature, every footprint. Only animal tracks she determined with some relief, and hurriedly scanned the area directly below them. The snow was undisturbed and there were no signs to suggest anyone was nearby. Satisfied she gazed around again. They were about three quarters the way up the mountain and as she looked she could see mountains even taller than the one they sheltered upon rose up around her to kiss the very heavens. She nodded with satisfaction and walked back to where her father lay. She quickly covered him with the spare cloak they carried, trying to keep him as warm as possible while she had the time to think. Suddenly she remembered the other thing they had to do.

"The guardian!" She exclaimed and stared at her motionless father.

"That's who we have to call. Oh Hell what was his name?" She moaned despairingly, wracking her memory for the strange name her Papa had mentioned just before she'd dozed off.

"Hamdel… Himda… Haemdel… Heimdall!" She cried triumphantly, standing up and moving towards the mouth of the cave.

"Heimdall! Help us!" She called and waited, hands clasped before her pleadingly as she turned her face to the sky. As long moments ticked by her disappointment increased until the foolish hope she'd held disappeared entirely. Furious tears blinded her and she screamed her anguish into the hills, the sound reverberating off the surrounding mountains and bringing her back to her senses. If anyone was within hearing distance, she'd as good as told them where to look. Hurriedly she ran back to her father's side and eyed his bulk cautiously. He was a bear of a man, far too much for her to move alone. She had turned 12 only a few weeks ago but her petite frame often made her seemed younger, more fragile. She had no choice but to try and at least move him towards the mouth of the cave. Perhaps the fresh air would awaken him enough to tell her what to do. Gritting her teeth she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out her mother's jade hair-pin, twisting her unmanageably long hair out of her face so she could concentrate on her seemingly impossible task. She heaved as hard as she could, managing to shift her father over onto his side. Nodding to herself she moved around and grasped his arms, hauling with all her meagre strength. He barely moved and she felt herself grow desperate. No, she wouldn't give up yet. She tugged again, this time moving him a few inches before her strength deserted her.

"Please." She moaned and, by some miracle, her father's eyes fluttered open. He looked at her through dazed eyes and she gasped.

"Papa help me, I need you to move now!" She ordered as firmly as she could and he groaned, shifting his body as she wrenched at his arms. At a pain-stakingly slow pace they crawled to the mouth of the cave and Alva leaned against the wall, sinking to the ground in exhaustion. She was physically spent now and, looking over at her father's defeated form, she knew he was too.

"I am so sorry Papa, I have failed you." She said and he groaned.

"No Alva… you have done all you can… and I am so very proud of you." He breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper. Alva crawled until she was holding him in her tiny arms, barely able to circle his enormous chest with her thin limbs. Tears now trailed down her face, mingling with his.

"Hiemdall didn't come." She moaned and he shook his head.

"No that's impossible… try… again." He ordered and she sobbed.

"I tried and he didn't come!" She shouted and he grasped her hand tightly, making her wince a little.

"Calm… down… and… try… again." He breathed and she nodded, drawing as much air into her lungs as she could before she clutched him to her. His eyes closed again and she screamed.

"No Papa! Stay awake, please stay awake!" She begged but he was gone and no amount of shouting would bring him back now. Turning her face to the bright blue sky outside Alva drew breath and focused on sending out her message.

"Please Heimdall. If you can hear me, please, I implore you to help us." She pleaded, repeating the mantra again and again until she felt the ground shake beneath her. Startled, she gasped and a bright ray of multi-coloured light shot from the sky, enveloping her and her father. A vicious jerk sent them both spiralling through a screaming vortex of light, colour and sound, a thousand times worse than the blizzard and yet exhilarating in a way that the blizzard most certainly had not been. She grasped her Papa tightly to her as they were thrown forwards through the Bifrost and sent barrelling into the unknown. In what felt like hours, but was in reality mere seconds, Alva felt herself being tipped out into empty space and then her knees collided painfully with solid ground as silence returned and her world stopped moving. She looked up to see an enormous, gold-clad man standing upon a dais of smooth golden stairs. In his hands he wielded a large broadsword and he gazed down at her with eyes the colour of honeyed topazes as he slowly dismounted the stairs towards her. She shrank back slightly but kept her gaze on his, watching him warily as he approached.

"Go, Alva of Alfheim, fetch your father aide." He ordered and she ducked her head to look at her motionless father.

"But… I must stay… my father…" She protested but the mighty being, who she assumed was Heimdall, interrupted her.

"Will die if you do not go now, young one. I myself cannot go for I am duty-bound to never abandon my post as guardian of the Bifrost." He said solemnly and Alva felt defeat sink through her entire being. She got to her feet numbly and gazed back at her Papa before stumbling to the smoothly arching doorway in front of her. The ground beneath her feet seemed to flicker and dance with all the colours of the rainbow and she followed its path. The Rainbow Bridge cut a straight, un-breaking line towards the realm eternal, which seemed to glow like a thousand splendid suns upon the surface of a great midnight ocean. Gleaming towers of flawless marble rose high into the soaring heavens and the cosmos whirled around her as she began to run across the Bifrost as fast as she was physically able. Her breath came hard, her feet were fair killing her and she could barely see for the tears that were blurring her vision but Alva was determined to reach help. She had come so far, she could not fail now. A pair of colossal gates opened as she sprinted towards them and she ran between them into the paradise that was Asgard… slamming straight into the solid form of another person running the opposite way. She rebounded off whoever it was and flew backwards, hitting her back hard against the ground and completely winding herself. As she lay gasping for breath upon the ground the figure approached and knelt down beside her.

"Are you alright?" A soft voice asked, edged with genuine concern. Slowly Alva sat up and, still wheezing slightly, turned her head to peer at her attacker from under the edge of her hood. To her surprise, he appeared no older than herself, perhaps 12 or 13 years of age. He was very pale and slender in a way that she hadn't thought Asgardians could be with longish black hair and wide green eyes that seemed to study her thoroughly. He was crouched beside her and one of his hands was on her shoulder, the touch extremely gentle and entirely comforting. His face was filled with guilt and concern and she knew immediately he would help her do what she must. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and clinging to him with all her strength. He instinctively tensed, then wrapped a reluctant arm around her quivering shoulders. Remembering herself, she drew away hurriedly, aware she was hugging a complete stranger.

"I apologise, my name is Alva." She said and he nodded, his vivid green eyes lighting up slightly. They were mesmerising and Alva could have gotten lost staring into them for too long.

"My name is Loki." He said timidly, looking away to fix his gaze on the glittering ground. She smiled, throwing back her hood so she could see him clearly. She looked up and he gasped. Alva pulled a face, knowing it was her eyes that had startled him. People always stared at her because of them; their colour was unusual and it was an expected if not slightly annoying reaction that she was very used to.

"You're an elf!" He announced excitedly, his tone slightly awed.

"Of course, and you're an Asgardian." She retorted defensively. He laughed and she smiled slightly, eying his rounded ears with the same amount of interest he was eying her own elongated ones. Self-consciously she brought her hand up and tucked a stray piece of red hair behind her ear, grazing the tapered point gently and chewing her bottom lip nervously.

"I can hide them, if they disturb you." She said weakly, moving to pull her hood back up but he stopped her, his eyes dancing.

"Oh no, you do not get out of this so easily… you're the first elf I've ever met." He said happily and she snorted in a most unladylike manner.

"And you're the first Asgardian I've met." She countered teasingly, making him screw up his nose slightly. An odd, haunted look came over him and he sat back on his hunches.

"I am probably a disappointment then." He muttered despondently and she shook her head, giggling slightly.

"What's so funny?" Loki demanded haughtily and she quickly tried to cover her laughter, only to fail miserably.

"Your ears are so strange." She said and he grinned, tapping her nose lightly with the very tip of a slender finger.

"I believe this is a strange case of the pot calling the kettle black." He replied flippantly and Alva smirked. She rubbed her nose where he had tapped it.

"You are hurt." Loki said, reaching out to touch her forehead. She frowned in confusion, immediately bringing a hand up to her forehead to feel an old scab beneath her fingertips. She smiled grimly, remembering why she was here in the first place. Touched by his concern she tried not to make her pained smile into too much of a grimace.

"I will deal with it later but, please, you must take me to the All-Father." Alva said desperately and Loki frowned, arms folding across his chest defensively. Loki's features became quite cool and although his change in manner disturbed her she only had so much time to waste.

"I must see him." She said and Loki shrugged nonchalantly.

"Why?" He demanded and Alva very nearly hit him, despite how much she had grown to like him in the limited time she had known him.

"Because if you do not my father will die and I will hit you so hard your grandchildren will be feeling the pain of it." She threatened furiously and his eyes flew wide.

"Your father?" He exclaimed; all his childish teasing swiftly laid aside. She nodded, suddenly exhausted.

"Please." She begged and he nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Can you stand?" He asked and she nodded. With his help she managed to ease herself upright and stumble inelegantly to her feet. He was a good three or four inches taller than she but this was unsurprising given her tiny stature.

"Which way?" She demanded and Loki smiled at her. His eyes were literally aflame with barely concealed mischief and Alva sensed that beneath the calm façade he was quite the trickster.

"Hold tight." He said and she gripped him around the waist as tightly as she could.

"Perhaps not that tight." He relented and she relaxed her hold a bit.

"Sorry." She murmured, a blush spreading across her cheeks as he laughed and closed his eyes. A strange rushing sound filled her ears and as the scene around her melted away, it was immediately replaced by a new one… a vast auditorium filled with golden pillars and an impressive dais on which the almighty throne of Asgard stood. On the throne sat a figure of legend, an intricate sceptor grasped in his hand and his giant bulk taking up the throne with apparent ease. There was a small group of people at the foot of the stairs and Loki's arrival made each one turn abruptly to face them.

"Father!" He shouted and Alva's mouth fell open. Of all the people she could have knocked down upon entering Asgard, she had to knock down the All-Father's son. And she'd threatened to hit him too! Her blush returned full force and she allowed Loki to draw her forward towards the group, head bent towards the ground.

"Father we seek your council!" Loki continued steadily and Alva nodded, stumbling with fatigue as she reached the foot of the dais. She tried to curtsy, as she had been taught but fatigue had overwhelmed her and she fell, sprawling painfully across the stone step. Immediately Loki was by her side, easing her up and she smiled gratefully at him.

"Child, are you ill?" A warm, feminine voice asked in alarm and she turned to see a beautifully dressed woman approach, her kind face twisted into a look of genuine distress.

"Nay, I seek aide for my father Mauravice of Alfheim." Alva said, as loudly as she could manage, and the room was immediately filled with the buzz of whispers. Order was restored with a mere pounding of the All-Father's sceptor and she looked up apprehensively to see the glowing figure in the throne had stood. He made his way down the stairs towards her and knelt to speak with her. She was too tired to bow or even flinch, she simply stared at him.

"Mauravice?" He asked breathlessly and she nodded.

"We thought he had died, when the palace was taken…" The All-Father muttered and she drew herself up to her full height, however insubstantial it was.

"My Father and I have travelled for many days, our palace was breached and we had no choice but to flee Alfheim… my mother died in the assault and he too will die if he is not tended to soon." She said, her voice weakening as her strength continued to fail. She noticed vaguely that the All-Father had a kind face too, even if he only had one eye, and he was even larger than her father. Her father was tall but Odin was simply vast. Like a great oak tree, by comparison to a towering pine. He nodded and barked an order to some of the surrounding people.

"You heard the child, fetch the king and bring him to our healing rooms immediately." He ordered fiercely and there was a scurrying as some of the group left to do as he had bid. Alva tried to sit up and nearly collapsed as a wave of exhaustion hit her. She clutched at Loki's shoulder, which thankfully, was still in arm's reach.

"Alva? That is your name is it not?" The All-Father said and she nodded.

"Aye, All-Father, of Alfhiem." She said proudly and he chuckled.

"Frigga, perhaps our guest should be fed before she passes out with weariness?" He said and the beautiful woman from before approached and also knelt beside Alva, replacing the All-Father who returned to the throne he'd so recently abandoned.

"Come child." Frigga encouraged and Alva, with aid from Loki and another boy with blonde hair and clear blue eyes, managed to walk out of the hall and down the long sweeping corridor outside the main hall.

"I am Frigga, Lady of Asgard and these are my sons; Thor and Loki, whom I see you have already met." Frigga introduced and Alva dipped her head towards Thor who merely smiled pleasantly at her.

"My name is Alva." She said, feeling a little repetitive now that she'd said something similar many times. She edged closer to Loki, comforted by his presence as the four moved through the unfamiliar palace. They finally reached their destination and the doors were opened by a pair of guards upon their approach. There was a roaring bon-fire in the centre of the room, flames leapt towards the vented ceiling above it and Alva felt her familiar draw to fire stir within her despite her exhaustion. There was also a table of fine food which ran along one wall to her right and the sight made her mouth water. She looked up at Frigga who nodded kindly, indicating towards the table.

"Of course you may." She said, answering Alva's unasked question. Eagerly, the little red-head removed her cloak in the stifling heat and made her way towards the table. She grabbed the first thing she could lay her hands on, not caring particularly what it was, and stuffed it greedily into her mouth before following it closely with more. In the distance she heard Frigga say something but she ignored it. It had been a long time since she'd had food, even longer since it was anything this fine tasting. Her eyes closed reverently as she sank down onto the floor with her plate, chewing absently as she savoured the rich meat and vegetables. Unfortunately, her rapid excitement simply led to her being violently ill. Without warning she gagged and regurgitated all the wonderful food she'd just eaten as her untried stomach rejected the lushness of its sudden nourishment. Her companions, at least the younger ones, cried out in alarm as she bent over and heaved continually onto the marble floor. When it had stopped, and there was nothing left inside for her to throw up, she glanced up to see varying expressions on each of their faces. Ashamed she turned away from them and huddled into the corner of the room, wrapping her arms around her knees and rocking slightly with her forehead scrapping the filthy joints. A low moan escaped her mouth and she felt disgusted at her stupidity. Rapid footsteps approached her hiding place and a pair of warm, female arms surrounded her, pulling her into a tender embrace.

"Shush darling it's alright." Frigga cooed, holding her gently as Alva wept bitterly. When her tears had dried some she looked over to see that Thor had walked away awkwardly, moving to sit by himself before the dancing fire with his own plate of food. Evidently he was unnerved by all this weeping and Alva felt cowardly and stupid all at once. Loki on the other hand was much closer. In his right hand he held another plate, this time consisting of staple foods that would be much easier for her poor stomach to handle. His rather serious face was drawn with unease as he came nearer and handed her the plate silently. She took it after a moment's hesitation and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand with no small amount of embarrassment. Her gaze fell on the mess she'd made and her shoulders slumped.

"I am so sorry." She whispered but Frigga merely drew her hair back and away from her face. She loosened it briefly before grasping her mother's pin and twisting her red waves back into an elegant twist that Alva had never been able to manage before.

"My, what a beautiful pin." Frigga exclaimed and Alva smiled tentatively, placing a few morsels of food into her mouth and chewing them slowly. The taste of bile was fading gradually as she fed herself at a more decent pace. She sent a glance towards Loki who was busy studying his own plate, moving more of the meat around the dish than he actually consumed.

"It was my mother's." She said reluctantly, her smile fading away at the memory of her mother's violent death. She swallowed thickly but stubbornly held back the new wave of tears that threatened to fall. She was done crying. When her stomach was full as she dared make it Alva pushed the finished plate away and tried to stand.

"I must go to my father now." She said dazedly but Frigga shook her head sternly, grasping her hand tightly.

"Nay, you will sleep. There is nothing you can do for him now, save pray for his recovery… Loki will escort you to your room." She said and Loki frowned.

"Mother…" He exclaimed and Alva ducked her head in shame. Of course he wouldn't want to be burdened with the responsibility of escorting an embarrassing wretch like her to her room; great All-Father she might throw up or start crying again. Sneering bitterly at the floor Alva tottered proudly to her feet.

"Nay, I need no escort if it is disagreeable to his royal Highness." She announced severely. She pressed her lips to Frigga's knuckles, as was appropriate, and turned on her heel to flounce from the room. Behind her she heard Loki receive a bitter but low spoken warning and then hurried footsteps told her he was coming after her. She frowned and quickened her pace, exiting the room after a small wave to Thor who wished her a good evening.

"I hope your father recovers." He called and she thanked him heartily, deciding that she liked his honest nature already. She ignored Loki however, deciding that if he was going to be such as arse about it all then she wouldn't speak to him unless absolutely necessary.

"Wait, Alva?" He called as they trek through the vaulted hallway towards her new accommodations. She glowered darkly but turned to face him.

"Yes, your Highness?" She asked stiffly and he bit his lip nervously, his pale face anxious in the dim light.

"I am sorry Alva, if my actions have offended you." He blurted out tightly. She stared at him for a long moment. The words were obviously extremely hard for him admit and it made her wonder how often Prince Loki actually apologised to people. Not very often apparently.

"The last thing you need at the moment is my discourtesy, please accept my apology." He continued and Alva felt a little less hurt. She uncrossed the arms she hadn't even realised she'd crossed and stepped closer to him.

"Thank you Prince Loki." She said and indicated her him to lead the way. He nodded, seemingly disappointed, and they began to walk again. To her relief it was in a far more comfortable silence than before. They made only a few corridors before he spoke again.

"I too hope for your father's recovery Alva… I… I do not wish to see you hurt any further." Loki muttered quietly, so quietly that Alva had to strain to hear him. She smiled and placed a hand on his wrist making him look up at her.

"Again, I thank you and your family for everything they have done for my father and I. You in particular have been very kind." She said and there was a rapid flicker of movement by the corner of his mouth that could have been a smile. They walked on in companionable silence and finally arrived at her new chambers. Alva realised that her hand was still wrapped around his and slowly disentangled herself from him. It was hard to tell but she swore his pale cheeks reddened slightly as he coughed and stepped away.

"My chambers are located next door, if you should have need of anything." He said, flourishing his hand towards the room in question. Alva noted this and stored it away for later use.

"Thor's chambers are a little further down, as are my parent's if the need is truly urgent." He continued and she nodded, not sure how she should respond. The awkward silence pressed on and Alva reached out behind her to open the door. They spoke at the same time and stopped, eying each other awkwardly.

"Well I should… probably go." She murmured, still not moving to follow her own example. He nodded.

"Uh yes…" He answered, obviously unsure.

"Good night… Loki." She said softly and his lips curved in a genuinely relieved smile. They stared at each other for a long moment then his vivid green eyes began to flicker around as though he were unsure where to place them.

"You could just ask?" She said and he frowned.

"Ask what?" He returned and she smirked.

"About my eyes, I don't mind, everyone does." She said and he pulled a face.

"Was I that transparent?" He asked disappointedly and she shook her head quickly, surprised to find she meant it. He had played a convincing gentleman this whole time and it was only then that she'd sensed he had been curious. He had been extremely reserved in all the time they'd spent together and she'd found it nice to have at least one person she wasn't related to not react in response to her unusual irises. Loki cocked his head slightly, staring avidly at her violet eyes now that he had permission to do so.

"Did your mother have them?" He asked and she shook her head.

"Your father?"

"Nay, I believe my great grandmother possessed similar eyes to mine however I never knew her for she died giving birth to my grand-uncle." She said and he nodded.

"Fascinating, no one has eyes like yours in Asgard." He announced and even though she'd heard similar things said by her own people, when Loki said it, the phrase felt different somehow. She blushed, swaying slightly in pleasure.

"They are nothing really." She proffered lamely and he frowned.

"Nothing! They are most certainly not nothing…" He trailed off, shocked at his outburst. She grinned and took his hand, inwardly pleased when he didn't flinch or stiffen.

"Good night Loki." She said and he bowed, pressing a gallant kiss to her knuckles.

"Good night Alva, tomorrow we shall visit your father." He said and she smiled. When she closed the door, a soft sigh escaped her as she leant back against it. It was all so wonderful, Asgard, Frigga and especially Loki. Now all that remained was for her father to be well again and her life could begin to rebuild itself. Tomorrow was a new day and she smiled as she stripped off her filthy clothes and tumbled into the awaiting bed, already asleep before her head had hit the pillow.

Loki POV:

Some hours later Loki still felt as though his mind were on fire. He tried to force himself to sleep, trying to relax, but it was hopeless. He simply couldn't sleep this night. His thoughts were on her, the red-haired elf known as Alva. He closed his eyes and pictured her face, smiling into the darkened ceiling as her image floated before his eyes. He remembered how her petite body had collided with his on the Bifrost, how she'd hugged him and even threatened him when no one else in Asgard would have dared do such a thing to the son of Odin. He grinned as he remembered her fiery retorts, how her violet eyes had flashed like purple fire when he'd teased her. Her face was delicate, much like the fine porcelain dolls some Midgardians fashioned for their royal youngsters. Her eyes were the biggest part of her entire body, everything else was paper thin and petite but one minute in her company had revealed her to be anything but fragile. Despite the fact that he had known her for all but a few hours Loki was surprised to discover that he felt completely relaxed around her. Maybe it was her immediate trust in him that made him return the favour he usually reserved only for the people closest to him. Trust was something that, although he knew he should feel around his family, he had difficulty in managing. Perhaps it was because she was so obviously different. He had always felt the pressure of being the youngest, but the feeling that everyone viewed him as a strange Asgradian also followed him wherever he went. No one ever spoke of it aloud but it was obvious that he was different. He was slight where Thor was thick, he was cautious where Thor was rash. Thor enjoyed hastily partaking in his favourite physical pursuits whereas Loki had the patience to glean vast amounts of information from the palace library if the need arose. In fact everything that Thor was, Loki could always be counted upon to be the opposite of and apparently that was everything opposite to what Asgardians as a society aspired to. Trying to stem the bitterness that welled within him Loki focused once again on Alva. He did truly hope her father recovered but he also felt guilty in admitting that he wanted her to stay in Asgard for a good while longer, even if it meant her father had to be ill. Was it wrong for him to want a friend? Thor had friends. Plenty of them. Hogunn, Volstagg, Fendral and Sif already followed him around like trained lapdogs so where was the harm in desiring to finding himself a friend that hadn't already succumbed to his elder brother's charms. Frustrated that once again his thoughts had strayed to Thor's popularity Loki threw the bed clothes back and stood, moving to the window and pulling the curtain across the stare out over Asgard. As always, the sight of his beautiful, peaceful city calmed him and he even smiled at the thought that Alva slept soundly next door. He frowned as he heard the sound of running feet and moved to the door. Peering around its edge he watched as his mother disappeared into Alva's room, several moments passed then she re-emerge with the tousle-haired Alva in suite. Alva's eyes were wide and her face pale from shock and sleep. There could only be one reason why his mother would disturb a guest in the middle of the night. Without making a sound Loki snuck out of his room and made after the two females, keeping close to the shadows and making sure he kept a respectable distance between them and himself.

After a few peaceful hours of dreamless sleep Alva was rudely awoken from the depths of slumber by a violent shaking of her shoulder. She groaned and turned away, only to have someone drag her forcefully back to face them. She cracked open a single eyelid to see Frigga standing by her bedside, her kind face twisted into such a look of abject grief Alva knew something terible must have happened to her father. Her stomach dropped and she felt the colour leave her face.

"Is he…" She couldn't finish and so, trailed off, staring at the Lady of Asgard in total despair. To her amazement Frigga shook her head.

"Nay, your father still lives but our physicians do not expect him to last the night… I have come to take you to him, for he wishes to see you." She said softly and Alva sprang from the bed without another word. She followed Frigga noiselessly out of her new room and down the corridor . She thought she heard something creeping behind them but was too grief-stricken to care. She followed Frigga wordlessly through the palace until they reached the Healing Rooms. Frigga opened the doors and lead her inside, where she saw her father lying comfortably in a bed, a healer checking his pulse and the All-Father staring down at him sadly. Alva bit her lip and stepped forward into the candlelight.

"Papa?" She whispered and Mauravice opened his eyes to peer at her. A wide smile filled his face and he patted the bedclothes next to his side.

"My darling Alva," He breathed as she climbed up onto the bed and nestled against his side. She looked over at Odin.

"Thank you for taking care of my Papa." She said softly and the Asgardian dipped his head minutely, a mere fraction of a movement that she took to be acknowledgement of her thanks. She turned her gaze back to her father's face and smile bravely.

"Are you going to die Papa?" She asked and the light that danced in is storm-grey eyes died a little. He lifted his voice and ordered the Asgardians to leave, sounding every bit the King demanded his last rights. Frigga and Odin departed and Alva was left alone with her father. He stroked her hair gently and blinked slowly.

"Alva, I was never going to live forever, although we alfar are the longest lived of all the beings of the Nine Realms, we to must one day take our place beneath the soil." He chided tenderly and Alva's lips pressed together tightly to prevent herself from crying.

"But Papa, you are not that old… surely…" She stuttered and stopped when he held a calloused finger over her lips.

"Hush Baby Bird, we will meet again." He said seriously and she nodded, gripping his hand tightly within hers and swallowing thickly.

"Can I stay with you?" She asked and he nodded, curling a protective arm around her and tucking her against him gently.

"You have been so brave Baby Bird, your mother and I could not be any more proud… I love you Alva." He murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Alva snuggled closer, stealing every moment she had with him with all the greed of a starving woman.

"I love you too Papa." She replied and for a long time neither of them spoke. All the hardships they'd faced together had climaxed to this point and neither the elf king nor his daughter were prepared to break the fragile peace they'd found.

"Alva, I must leave you now but I want you to be brave, as brave as you have been since we left Alfheim. You have such a capacity to love, such a capacity to change the Nine Realms and I will always be with you… no matter where you go." Mauravice said, his voice broken down to a soft whisper that Alva could barely hear. She closed her eyes tightly and squeezed his chest slightly.

"Go Papa, be at peace. I will walk with you again, in the Undying Lands." She said brokenly, giving him the release he so desperately needed but she so selfishly didn't want to give. He nodded tiredly and closed his eyes. For a few more moments his chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, then it stilled and the heart beats slowed until they eventually came no more. Alva lay, strangely dry eyed, against her father's motionless chest. She lay there, staring blankly at the wall beside his bed and slowly but surely locking away that part of her heart that hurt more than anything else in the entire cosmos. Never again would she let anyone in, never again would she make herself vulnerable to love's attack. As her Papa's body cooled Alva swore to never love again, the consequences were just too painful.

Loki POV:

It was how she was found an hour later, when Loki pushed the door of the Healing Rooms open despite his parents' firm objections. He took one look at her and the dead king and called for his father. Odin had swept into the room and immediately tried to detach the girl from her father's stiffening corpse. All was well up until that point. The moment Frigga or Odin moved to detach the morbid pair, Alva screamed as though in mortal agony and clung even tighter to her father's chest. Odin gave up after a time and sat down in a chair to watch as his wife begged, threatened and conjoled the distraught child in turns. Loki watched all this pensively, eying his parents and his friend quietly until his mother finally gave in. Under his parent's scrutiny he went to stand by his friend's bedside. She didn't look around at him, didn't move a muscle and Loki bit his lip.

"Alva?" He whispered but she simply ignored him. He could see no tears in her unusual eyes, it was as if her whole face was carved entirely of marble and he frowned. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of her chest, he would have believed her a statue.

"Alva please," He begged and finally, he saw a flash of some un-nameable emotion in her lavender eyes. He slipped his hand into hers but didn't tug at it or attempt to move her in any way. Gently he squeezed her hand and, to his relief, he felt her squeeze back.

"I know you don't want to but you must leave him be… he would not want you to do this." He said, hoping he was as good at lying as everyone claimed him to be.

"Alva, please come with me." He begged and she turned her head to look at him blankly.

"I am all alone now." She said softly, her voice like leaves rustling in the wind. He shook his head and sat down beside her, careful to avoid touching the dead man.

"No Alva, you are not alone, you will never have to be alone." Loki promised seriously and she smiled faintly and her pretty face seemed to age about ten years directly before his eyes. In that moment he knew, instinctively, that she would grow up to be beautiful, except maybe for her ears.

"But I want to be alone… I must be alone." She said and he cleared his throat. It seemed to jar her from her thoughts and she glanced at him, startled.

"You will stay here, with us." He said firmly, eying his parents for any objections. When none came he grinned inwardly and was able to smile at least semi-confidently as she looked him straight in the eye, trying to compel understanding from him. Finally, whatever she saw there convinced her and she nodded. Alva sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed before moving to sit shoulder to shoulder with him on the very edge.

"Yes, I will stay." She said softly and he smiled, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against him.

"Good," He whispered, so only she would hear.

"Because I wasn't going to take no for an answer." He announced cockily and she rolled her eyes.

"Aren't we the conceited princeling then?" She mocked and he quirked a brow in her direction.

"And aren't we a bit old for name calling?" He responded, drawing a small, fleeting smile from her pale lips. He hopped off the bed and extended his hand towards her. She grasped it and allowed him to pull her off the bed.

Odin and Frigga smiled, watching the two children wander off into the palace before setting to work preparing Mauravice's body for the funeral.

**And that is that. Rather sad but it needed to happen I'm afraid. Please let me know if you think this story is worth continuing… it feels me with such joyful feelings and besides, it gives me a chance to write smutty, fluffy stories about Tom Hiddleston –ahem- I mean Loki. **


	2. Moon of Mourning

**Moon of Mourning.**

**Alright so this chapter contains the funeral, a little magic and the introduction of Sif and the Warriors Three. Am both sad and happy to get this chapter out of the way since it means I can move onto more interesting stuff between Loki and Alva; namely childhood and the lead up to Thor. That will take a few chapters then we'll see how I handle Thor and Avengers… wish me luck **

Loki POV:

Loki sat alone next to the fire. His long legs were stretched out towards the billowing warmth and one knee was bent slightly to rest his arm and chin upon as he stared moodily into the flickering flames before him. He glowered as his brother and the others laughed amongst themselves, ignoring his obviously foul mood. Volstagg was closest, reclining on a nearby couch with an overflowing plate of roasted game steadily disappearing into his gullet as he and Hogunn watched a light sparring session between Thor and Fandral, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The Lady Sif was cheering on Thor, as usual, and Loki felt his patience drawing to its end as his frustration and loneliness grew into a thick, choking sensation in his chest. He stabbed cheerlessly at the burning logs with one of the lighter sticks, his eyes barely moving to follow the embers that flew upwards at his attack. Thunderous laughter suddenly filled his ears and Loki turned his head to see that Thor had Fandral in a head lock and was proceeding to wander the room cockily with the slighter boy stumbling along behind him, much to the amusement of Sif and Volstagg and even managing to coax a small smile from Hogunn. He rolled his eyes and went back to his morose poking. When that didn't work at elating his spirit he lifted his hand towards the fire and began to form small shapes in the flames; grotesque faces, running animals and, just once, a little girl with laughing eyes. Laughter broke out again and he sneered, dropping his hand to his knee once more. It was a scene he had seen perhaps a hundred times before and no matter how many times he interacted with them, Loki never got used to just how alone he felt surrounded by people who shared none of his interests and generally treated him with forced civility. It was actually hard to admit that he had known each of them his whole life when for the most part they seemed perfect strangers. For people he was supposedly close to, their pursuits and favoured forms of entertainment seemed to him as foreign as the very moon. They had learnt together and trained together, grown up knowing that it was each other's council they would one day have to rely upon in times of trouble. Yet, even with that knowledge stored securely in the recesses of his mind, Loki was unable to bring himself to totally trust anyone but Thor. And that trust only came because they were duty bound to support each other. Loki was furious in their cheerful company. Furious _because_ they were so cheerful. It didn't seem right that they should be so jovial and he so bitterly unhappy. It just didn't seem right that they could be so apathetic and so he scowled blackly when Thor won the next two rounds easily and strolled lazily over to him, sitting down and smiling triumphantly around the room. Loki flinched away from him slightly, watching him warily from the corner of his eye.

"Brother, bow to my superiority." Thor crowed smugly, seemingly oblivious to Loki's furious glower.

"It is unwise for you to remain in my company Thor, go seek worshipers elsewhere." He retorted tartly but his brother simply clapped him on the shoulder bracingly and laughed.

"Loki, you must desist in this ill-humour… come and be merry with your friends." He said but Loki simply stood and moved away, glaring down at him angrily.

"My friends? Nay Brother, yours perhaps." He spat quietly and was met with fierce glares from the other occupants of the room. Sif snorted, tossing her midnight coloured braid irritably over her shoulder as she levelled her steel coloured gaze upon him curiously.

"What ails you Loki?" She asked and the other boys nodded, looking at him with the same curiosity. He sneered at them all defiantly.

"Tis none of your concern." He snapped and folded his arms defensively across his chest as he retreated away from the group to settle once more on the opposite side of the fire. He felt all their stares upon him but refused to give them the satisfaction of looking up.

"Loki, is it about that elf?" Fandral asked suddenly and Loki couldn't control the rapid movement of his chin. If looks could have killed, Fandral would have been seeking rest in Valhalla that very moment.

"That _elf_ has a name Fandral, it is Alva and since she is to be living with us for the unforeseeable future… it would be best if you remembered to use it." He snapped irritably, making the other boy cringe with his fierce glare. Volstagg, on the other hand, laughed heartily, his vast chest almost bouncing with mirth.

"Aha, it seems the Ice Prince has a heart after all… pity she's an elf." He murmured and Loki temper finally got the better of him.

"Better an elf than any of you lot, look at you all sitting here like children who want to play at being adults… pitiful." He jeered and smirked when Sif's face darkened, Thor's turned bright red with rage and the Warriors Three went rigid with affront. He stretched lazily and stood, brushing dust from his breeches and straightening his sleeves.

"I bid you good evening." He muttered and strode to the door, immediately bending down to the crack to listen to their conversation. For a long time no one spoke, then Sif sniggered.

"All that for a girl… he's all of what, 12?" She remarked dryly and Loki rolled his eyes. She had only turned 12 two months ago and he himself was due to reach 13 in another three. Thor and the Warriors were all approaching their 14th birth-days and he smirked, knowing that in their cases at least, age did not necessarily mean wisdom. Sif was merely jealous that he was older. Everyone knew that her mother had forbidden her involvement in war-craft until she had turned ten and Loki remembered with a small smile the numerous times he had been able to tease her about being too young to fight. Always good for a laugh the Lady Sif. He was shaken from his thoughts by a new voice.

"Has the elf emerged yet Thor?" Hogunn asked quietly and Loki heard his brother sigh heavily. Pressing closer he held his breath.

"Nay, Mother says she is still in mourning but… I have never known a person to mourn in solitude for so long." He said and there was a creaking, as though he had moved to sit upon one of the couches. The high, ringing voice of Sif broke the silence again.

"A whole month? Who mourns for a whole month?" She demanded incredulously and Loki gritted his teeth. Typical Sif… always one to point the sword, even if she knew not where to point it. If any of them had actually bothered to read the prescribed texts on Elven customs, like Mistress Nanna had directed, then they would have known that Alva was currently undertaking what was known as the Moon of Mourning. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, it would appear that he was once again the only one who had bothered.

"Idiots." He breathed and waited.

"I don't know, maybe you should ask Loki… as annoying as he can be, no one can deny that he is full of information on everything." Volstagg muttered begrudgingly and Loki grinned, his fist clenching in minute triumph.

"Ask Loki? And get a smirk and taunt for my troubles? Nay, I'd rather kiss Sif." Fandral said quickly and Loki couldn't quite supress his soft laugh. As Sif roared in outrage he heard Thor groan wearily.

"Fandral, please desist in belittling my brother. I would also be wary of the world behind you since your careless words have insulted one of the few ladies I know who can leave you helpless in battle." He said sternly and there was a rumbled apology thrown Sif's way. Thor continued after a moment of silence.

"Loki has always been reliable my friends, he is also a Prince of Asgard and worthy of that title. Alva is his friend… I would think that he took offence to your comment Volstagg since anyone would think you were being intentionally prejudiced against the Alfar." He said seriously and Volstagg stuttered.

"I… nay I would never… I did not mean for…" He stumbled over his poor denial and there was a sound of flesh meeting flesh. Someone had obviously clapped him on the shoulder.

"Peace Volstagg, no one here doubts your sincerity." Sif said bracingly and the group murmured their agreement. They began to talk about mundane matters and Loki frowned slightly as he straightened. Footsteps made him whirl around anxiously but he relaxed when his mother's familiar figure appeared around a nearby corner. She smiled at him and reached out to touch his shoulder gently.

"Mother, how fairs Alva?" He asked immediately and she smiled sadly.

"She is still in mourning Loki, can you not leave the matter be awhile longer?" She begged but he frowned. Furiously he ducked away from her hand and folded his arms across his chest.

"It has been an entire month Mother… I just want to see her." He said and swore vehemently that his voice did not tremble. Loki Odinson did not stutter over his words. Frigga sighed.

"Why do you not enjoy the company of the others Loki? Have they been unkind?" She asked, intentionally changing the subject. He frowned, shaking his head. It was one of her pet objections, that he spent too much of his time alone. How could he tell her that he desired to be alone, or be with people he could actually stand to be around? He inhaled deeply.

"Nay Mother, I simply seek solitude… Thor's head was getting much too large and so I left to give him space." He snapped and immediately winced at his mother's firm stare.

"Try to be patient Loki. You know Thor means well, even if he forgets himself at times." She said, twisting her fingers into tight knots in front of her belly. It was a nervous habit she never did in public but he somehow always managed to make her do, either through deed or inaction. She had always hated when they quarrelled, always taking the greatest offence whenever he and Thor fought and so he nodded, just to spare her pain.

"I understand Mother." He said obediently and she smiled with relief. Pressing a kiss to his cheek she moved to open the door but he stopped her.

"Where is Alva? She has not been to her rooms, she never sups with us and what little talk of her can be heard is always hushed up… please tell me where she is." He begged, widening his eyes as much as he could as he gazed up at her beseechingly. She had never been able to resist that look, no matter what he had done. To his hidden satisfaction, she took the bait.

"You must promise not to disturb her." Frigga warned and Loki nodded.

"I just want to see her." He said and Frigga's lips tightened slightly. He waited and finally she let out a sigh of defeat.

"There is a chamber, off the Rose Garden, where her Father's body lies. She keeps vigil there." Frigga said reluctantly and Loki almost smacked himself for not seeing it before. Rumours had been spread that the gardens were under maintenance and like a fool he had believed them. He pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek and took off, skidding slightly on the smooth tiles as he took the corner a little too fast. Sprinting through the palace he slowed to catch his breath when he approached the Western Wing. Here the palace opened out into gardens and summer rooms, perfect for peaceful afternoons alone. Nimbly he walked towards the Rose Garden but a stern voice halted him in his tracks.

"Halt, who goes there?" A lone guard called, stepping out from a doorway to his left. Loki put on his most authoritive expression and turned to face the man calmly, as though he had every right to be here.

"Loki Odinson." He announced proudly and the man was obviously stunned.

"My Prince, forgive me, but I was told that no one was to enter these grounds without permission." He said and Loki smirked.

"Do you think I would come here if I did not have permission?" He asked seriously and the guard shuffled uncomfortably.

"Well… your Highness does have a reputation…" He began softly and Loki's smirk slipped off his face like water off a rock face.

"I beg your pardon?" He demanded quietly and the guard visibly stiffened. Immediately realising he'd taken an un-granted liberty he apologised profusely.

"Nothing my lord, I meant no offence." He said quickly and Loki stepped closer, glaring up at the foolish guard as the urge to set his coat on fire grew within him. He clenched his hand to stop the instinctive reaction and instead forced himself to smile civilly.

"Of course you did not, and I will forgive you, if… you let me pass." He said firmly, staring at the man unwaveringly. He coughed and looked around awkwardly.

"No one need ever know, I have my mother's permission and besides…" From behind his back he pulled out a plate of food he'd stealthily managed to conjure before the guard could notice. He took a deep breath and focused on maintaining the image, keeping most of his mind fixed on the conjure and the other part on the guard's face. Magic was tricky but he had a knack for tricky. The way with conjuring was to hold the wanted image in the mind, focusing on every single part of it as though seeing it right before your very eyes and projecting that image into tangible reality. Usually spell-weavers had a hard time conjuring anything bigger than their forearms, since the pressure of sustaining the image of larger objects often meant the image flickered or even died, ultimately defeating the purpose of the image. Some of the most powerful mages could perform a rare form of illusion known as 'Doppling' which involved creating copies of themselves that moved and even responded to the world around them like real beings. Loki was eager to try Doppling but right now he had to focus on projecting the image Volstagg's plate of meat, remembering as many of its details as he possibly could.

"Surely the Princess must eat?" He asked innocently, holding the plate out for the guard's inspection. When he leaned down Loki hurriedly pulled it away before he could realise that it didn't have a smell. Although cautious, this knowledge of the true purpose of these suites seemed to seal some kind of resolution in the guard's mind for he nodded slowly and offered a genuine smile.

"Why yes, of course. Please give her my regards." He said and Loki nodded politely, stepping by the man confidently and holding the weightless plate carefully, as though he were afraid of dropping it. Another factor one had to take into account when conjuring was that all illusions had no weight and very little texture, one had to feign mass but that could easily be achieved if you had experience… which he did. As soon as the guard was out of sight, Loki let the enchantment dissolve and grinned triumphantly. The image hadn't flickered once, he was getting better at conjuring with each passing day and one day he would be able to make a copy of himself… just to see the look of Thor's face when two of him walked through the door. He smiled at the thought and stepped lively, eager to see his reclusive guest. As much as he knew the rituals surrounding Alva's actions, it didn't mean he wanted to follow them anymore. For over a month Alva had sequestered herself away from the rest of the palace and it was high time she came back to them, back to him. On the very afternoon of her father's death Frigga had collected the girl from Loki's chambers, giving him mere seconds to say goodbye, before sweeping her out the door. At first Loki had thought she had left Asgard, she was absent at meal times and her room was empty even in the wee hours of the morning. Thankfully, when he had confronted his parents, the answer he and his brother had received was that she was in mourning. This had placated him for a few days, before he had grown tired of their obvious stalling. That weariness had escalated into frustration and finally anger when the only words he could get from either of his parents on the matter were that Alva was in mourning and that she was not to be disturbed.

The Rose garden was aptly named. Surrounded on three sides by a series of columned walkways the arched haven was filled with a rich abundance of roses and pathways. It's unbound side looked out over a sharp drop which gave visitors an unparalleled view of the city and the ocean beyond. The roses for which the garden was named were all shapes, colours and sizes. In the night air they seemed to be only of muted greys, their regal brilliance hidden except in the brightest moonlight. He skirting the chirping fountain at the centre of the garden and made his way towards the only chamber off the garden that glowed with candle light and moved to stand in the doorway. It was a small, square room that would have been unimportant if not for what it housed. A thousand flickering candles lit its interior, creating a golden halo of light that caressed the simple features of the room and made him think of a gentle embrace. By their warm light he could see the smooth floor was covered in ribbons of wax, melted in varying stages of each candle's service. Against the far wall a marble altar, no more than half a foot in height, rose out of the floor. Upon it was a prone figure he recognised vaguely as Alva's father and, seated before it, was the girl herself. She was dressed entirely in black, as was appropriate for mourning and her fiery hair was unbound, trailing down her back and gently tracing the floor. She had her back to him and she was sitting on a pillow in what he could only guess was a cross-legged position. She was completely still and for some reason Loki felt terrible at his intrusion. He should not be here.

"Well, come in if you must." Alva said softly, her voice barely audible even in the stillness of the room. He cleared his throat and didn't move.

"I am sorry if I have disturbed you." He said and she shrugged. Finally she turned to look at him and her rare coloured eyes were strangely absent of tears or even sadness. In her face there was only calm acceptance.

"Come." She said, indicating for him to sit down beside her. He did as he was bid, crossing his legs and casting his eyes around for a suitable place to look.

"I should not have come." He admitted and she shook her head in agreement, her head cocked slightly as she looked at him. She smiled and her eyes flickered to life, a brief moment of the old Alva returning before it was snuffed out again by the new.

"Aye but it is also good you did." She said and nodded slowly, turning back to face her father's body.

"Why?" He asked, shocked that she wasn't even angry at his intrusion. If his father found out he had come here there was no doubt in Loki's mind that he would be paying dearly for it until the day he died.

"It is good that you have come, it means that I have mourned for long enough." She said simply and her voice was laden with something akin to gratitude. Loki shrugged haplessly.

"I simply got sick of waiting for you to emerge. It has been an entire month since…" He trailed off as he realised something strange about the situation. For a body that had been apparently decomposing for a month, King Mauravice's body seemed rather well preserved. He peered closer and felt his mouth fall open in amazement. The king's skin was bared to the elements, he was unbound and had been dressed in fine clothes yet, there was a hardness to his features and a smoothness that surprised him.

"What has happened to him?" Loki asked quietly, unnerved by the perfectly preserved features of the dead man. It was as though the pale face had been bleached and hardened to the countenance of stone.

"He has petrified." Alva said simply and grinned impishly as he stared at her in shock. It was the first time her calm façade had cracked since Loki had seen her and he was jolted from his shock long enough to enjoy the fact that it was he who had made her smile so.

"Petrified?" He asked hesitantly and Alva reached out to take his hand. Grasping his wrist firmly she brought his fingers over to the very edge of her father's robe, just letting him scrape the fabric. It was cold and hard beneath his finger-tips, like the marble floor they rested upon.

"It takes an entire month for our bodies to petrify and in that time, my people usually gather to mourn as a family to mourn the passing of our loved ones and grant them the final rites." She said and drew his hand back from the stone king. Loki was entranced. The mysterious Moon of Mourning was a custom not fully understood by Asgardians and even the texts he had read revealed little of what occurred during that time. Alva tucked a stray curl of crimson behind her tapered ear and sighed.

"It is a time of remembrance and of understanding. Death is a concept that is foreign to the Alfar, for we are the longest lived of all the races… does this make any sense or am I boring you?" She asked, suddenly unsure. He shook his head and smiled thinly.

"Nay Alva, I have missed you too much to think anything here is boring." He said and she sighed with relief.

"I needed this time alone to accept what had happened. It is another part of the ritual I suppose, a way of dealing with death." She said and grinned at him sheepishly.

"I am sorry to have upset you… I hope you were not too lonely without my exulted company." She teased and he rolled his eyes, biting back his retort when she shifted to pick up a gutted candle. There was still a few hours left and she held the wick close to her lips and blew softly. As she breathed the wick flared with flame and she smiled contentedly as she replaced it with its fellows. He grinned, another who practiced magic… it was almost too good to be true. He longed to ask her about it but knew that there would be time enough for it later.

"Did you find what you searched for?" Loki asked instead and Alva's mouth twisted ruefully.

"After a time. Sometimes the Moon of Mourning ends sooner, sometimes later than the actual cycle of the moon but eventually both parties are ready for the final journey." She said and Loki frowned.

"Tomorrow your parents will hold a funeral for him." She explained and Loki nodded, understanding a little more now. They sat in silence for a long time, neither looking at the other yet comfortable in the silent companionship. Finally Loki spoke.

"Are you hungry?" He asked and she nodded.

"Famished." She murmured and he smirked. Reproducing the plate of meat behind his back Loki presented it to her gallantly, trying to hide his excitement as she reached out to take some of the meat presented to her. He laughed at the shocked look on her face when her fingers merely passed through the plate and food, letting the image fade away and grinning wickedly at her. Her mouth was a perfect 'o' shape as she gaped at him. Then her eyes glittered and purple fire danced fiercely behind her fragile looking face.

"That wasn't nice." She complained and he rolled his eyes.

"And what's the point of being nice, when being contrary has so many more advantages?" He asked flippantly, dusting his nails off on his shirt nonchalantly as she folded her arms over her chest irritably.

"Can you at least show _some_ respect here?" She asked fiercely and he immediately sobered. Ducking his head in shame he began to fiddle with his thumbs until her laughter rang through the room. He started in shock.

"La, I jest Loki." She said mischievously and he looked up to see her fingers were dancing around her rose bud mouth in an effort to hold back more of her mirth. He quirked an eyebrow at her and couldn't hold back his own snicker. Soon they were cackling madly, clinging to each other's shoulders as they laughed for no other reason than simply to let out all their tangled emotions.

"That is good. This chamber needed laughter… he would have wanted laughter." Alva said when they'd calmed enough to speak. She nodded towards her father. Loki felt his chest contract with pride.

"Alva!" A familiar voice called out and both children turned to see Frigga standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and a frown twisting her lips into a grotesque line. Loki stood hurriedly, followed closely by Alva. She curtsied and Loki was glad to see that this time at least she wasn't about to collapsed with weariness. She still wobbled however and it made him smile.

"Frigga, the month is passed… Loki has ended my vigil." Alva said softly and Loki flinched as his mother glared at him. He remembered, rather belatedly, their agreement that he was not to disturb her and rubbed his nose self-consciously.

"Did he now? I hope it was not on purpose." She said pointedly but Alva shook her head firmly.

"Nay my Lady, it was time to stop. Will the funeral be tomorrow?" She asked and Frigga nodded idly.

"If that is your wish." She said worriedly and Alva nodded.

"It is. Tomorrow, at dusk… it was his favourite time of day." She said pensively and Frigga smiled kindly at her, moving to take her hands.

"Come, you must be hungry and exhausted. It will not do to have you fatigued at the ceremony… Loki, come away now." She said and the two children obediently followed the towering Queen as she gracefully wound her way back through the silent palace towards their rooms. As dawn approached Loki was finally dismissed to his room, drooping with weariness but incredibly happy. Alva was back! He felt an idiotic grin spread across his face as he carelessly stripped off his clothes, dressed for bed and slipped beneath the covers. He paused and listened carefully, sighing when the faint sounds of movement next door told him that Alva was really back. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep, too exhausted to even dream.

Alva POV:

It was well past midday by the time Alva awoke. She woke of her own accord and for a moment was confused as to where she was. Then the events of that morning returned and she smiled at the ceiling. Loki had come and found her, had broken the mood for mourning and brought her back to the land of the living. Although her solitude had given her the peace and acceptance she needed for her father's death, she realised now why the Moon of Mourning was usually undertaken in groups. Left to her own devices, with only meals pushed silently to her and the occasional bath to break her isolation, Alva knew that she could have gotten lost, mediating by her father's side. It had been all too easy to lose her grasp on reality and although Frigga had reminded her of the passing days, it had taken Loki's presence to make her realise her place was still amongst those here. Gingerly she rolled out of bed, groaning as her stiff muscles protested the move. Making her way to the adjoining bathing suite in her chambers she stripped off her nightgown and eyed herself in the mirror sceptically.

"Too much Alva." She berated sternly, taking in the dark circles around her sunken eyes and the gauntness of her body. She would have to eat something soon and hopefully start to repair a month's worth of damage. As she decided this, a knock came at the door and she moved to hold her nightgown to her bare body and open the door warily. A fresh-faced woman, older than Alva by several years, smiled at her. Her eyes, inevitably, flicked twice towards Alva's own eyes, then her ears and Alva tried to hold back the irritation.

"Can I help you?" She asked politely, remembering her manners. The woman shook herself and nodded.

"Sorry my Lady, my name is Bridget. I am here to help you dress for the ceremony." She said brightly and Alva frowned in confusion.

"Help me?" She asked and Bridget laughed, pushing her way into the room and ushering in another woman dressed in a similar navy dress and apron ensemble. This woman was carrying a bundle but quickly deposited said bundle on the bed before departing the room without a backwards glance. Alva was a little taken aback but turned back when the remaining maid spoke again.

"Yes, you've slept the morning away my Lady, but now you are awake I have a little time to make you decent." The blonde haired woman teased and Alva allowed herself to be drawn back into the bathroom.

"You bathe and I'll be out here, take your time." Bridget said and so Alva did. The bath felt delicious after her vigil, the few times she had bathed had been but simply an exercise in hygiene that hadn't felt nearly as marvellous as this. She washed her hair thoroughly, scrubbed every inch of her skin she could reach and finally exited the cooling water when her fingers had well and truly started to prune. Bridget, true to her word, was still waiting for her.

"My, my I thought you had drowned." She quipped and Alva blushed, muttering an apology.

"Nay, I mean nothing by it my Lady… it must feel nice to have a bath right now eh?" She asked and Alva nodded, making her way over to see that Bridget had laid a dress and shoes out for her to wear. She stepped into her under-things, namely a thin shift, and was quickly bundled into her dress. It was lovely, even if it was entirely black, and Alva remained as still as she could as Bridget fastened the intricate row of buttons on the gown's back. The dress itself was made of a stiffened silk that shone when the light hit it in a certain way. A high, mandarin collar created a slim contrast to the sleeveless bodice, which clung to her torso until it reached her hips. The skirt fell to just below her knees, moving smoothly through the air like water and allowing the pair of sensible ankle-boots to be shown off to the best advantage.

"So much hair, whatever shall we do with it?" Bridget asked wondrously and Alva shrugged, pulling out her mother's pin and handing it to Bridget carefully. The maid turned it over in her hands.

"Beautiful, the green really compliments your hair. It's hard to find shades that do red hair justice." She said and Alva blinked in confusion. Bridget saw it and chuckled.

"Never you mind just yet my Lady, I'll fashion something." She said confidently and Alva allowed the cheerful woman to style her unruly curls into a semi-presentable bun that was held securely on the top of her head. A few tendrils trails down her face and allowed her delicate cheekbones to stand out against the power of her eyes. Stepping away and facing lava towards the mirror, Bridget hummed with satisfaction, smiling when Alva touched her dress with no small amount of awe in her face.

"Thank you." Alva muttered, remembering her manners.

"It was a pleasure, my Lady." She said, causing Alva to frown.

"Please call me Alva." She begged and the woman winked playfully, patting Alva's shoulder kindly.

"Only if you call me Bridget." She said and Alva smiled, the first one she'd done in the woman's company.

"There, you should smile more Alva… you have such a lovely smile." Bridget said and after one last pat on the cheek, left the room in a cheerful whirl of smiles. Alva stared after her for a moment then shrugged to herself in the mirror. She smoothed down the front of her gown and turned this way and that until she was satisfied with her appearance. Perhaps life here was not going to be so terrible as she had first imagined, after all, most people were turning out to be rather friendly.

OoOoOoO

Alva felt her stomach twist itself into knots as she paused before the door that lead to the common room, where all the children had been told to wait so that they wouldn't interrupt the final preparations for the funeral. Alva still scowled at the inference that she couldn't restrain herself, on this day of all days. The sounds of raised voices met her ears and she leaned in, aware that she was eavesdropping but not wanting to walk in blind if they were talking about her. Which they were.

"So, do we finally get to see a real elf?" A female voice said excitedly and Alva had to bite her lip in order to stop herself from laughing aloud. Honestly, it wasn't as if she had horns or blue skin and she was not dissimilar from these Asgardians in either form or speech so she found it rather amusing when they seemed shocked or surprised at her appearance. It was different to the reaction she usually got amongst her own people, who found her unusual even by their standards. It seemed being of tapered ear and long life made you somewhat strange to the inhabitants of Asgard rather than violet eyes and fathers' who were kings.

"As opposed to false elves Sif?" A lazy drawl that could only belong to Loki demanded and Alva sniggered quietly. It would seem even a late night could not affected his sense of humour.

"I was just saying, you and Thor are the only ones here who have seen her. What does she look like?" Sif asked curiously and Thor's laughter filled the room.

"What are you expecting her to look like? I assure you Sif, if you wait long enough you will see for yourself." He said bracingly and Alva straightened about to push open the doors and enter.

"I heard that the Alfar cannot lie, is that true?" Another boy said and Alva's eyes widened.

"I do not know." Thor said and someone walked so close to the door that Alva nearly tripped over in her haste to move away. Recovering her balance she moved back to listen by the door and bit her lip worriedly.

"Loki? Do you know?" Another voice chimed and Alva held her breathe.

"I wouldn't tell you lot, even if you begged me." He muttered and Alva smiled, gladdened to know he was definitely on her side.

"Oh come Brother, what harm could it do?" Thor said and Loki coughed.

"More harm than good, seeing as you're involved." Her friend snapped irritably and there was movement, as though both had stood up abruptly. Alva decided it was definitely time to step in. Opening the doors just wide enough to admit herself, Alva sidled through the gap as quietly as she could. She blinked as she stared around the vaguely familiar common room, which was filled with a small group of people, most of whom she did not recognise. They were all dressed in black, given the occasion, but even a funeral was not enough excuse for the tension that lay thick in the air like a winter fog. Of the group she could not distinguish there were three boys and a girl. They were all roughly her age and scattered about the room in various positions however every single one had their eyes trained on the two brothers who stood by the fireplace in the centre of the room. Thor and Loki were inches apart and scowling furiously into one another's faces, their bodies tense and their faces filled with heat. The atmosphere of the room was stifling and the tension thick enough to cut with a knife as the room waited breathlessly for Thor's next move.

"What do you mean by that?" He demanded angrily, his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides in an obvious effort to keep from striking Loki. He loomed over his younger brother by a good two inches, and he was almost double his size. His blue eyes were snapping with fury and his thick frame was bristling with wrath as the younger boy sneered up at him defiantly.

"Nothing you need trouble your pretty head about Thor, wouldn't want you to strain yourself." Loki retorted dismissively and had about a second's warning before Thor's fist flew through the air and connected with the side of his jaw. Loki's head snapped back as he was propelled backwards and into the floor by the force of the blow. He lay dazed upon the floor but managed to roll away in time as Thor's leg lashed out to try and catch him on his ribs. The others in the room whooped, or at least three of them did, as the two brothers squared off again. Loki was staggering slightly as he moved behind one of the couches to give himself time to recover. Alva could see that, even from across the room, his bottom lip was bleeding profusely and his emerald eyes were clouded over by the concussion he'd sustained from his brother, yet they also burned with rage, he was a wounded animal desperate to fight back. She was horrified, unable to comprehend the two boys fighting with such intent to hurt one another. Thor was scowling blackly at Loki over the lounge and dusted his bleeding knuckles off on his black tunic. Egged on by his friends, he danced around the piece of furniture in an effort to reach the dark haired boy.

"What, had enough have you Brother?" Thor taunted and Loki's eyes instinctively rolled, even as he struggled to remain upright.

"Hardly, I sense even with half my wits gone I could still take you down Thor." He muttered murderously, earning a roar of defiance from his elder. Sensing intuitively that this was about the end badly Alva moved like lightning to intercede, placing her body between the feuding pair and holding one of her arms out towards each of them desperately.

"Stop it!" She screamed and glared at each of them furiously until the twin fires in their eyes melted away and some semblance of sanity returned to their gazes. Thor's blue eyes widened in horror as he stared over her shoulder at Loki, who had blanched now that the initial adrenaline had worn off.

"Loki!" He cried and moved towards his brother but Alva placed a hand on his chest and shoved him back, sending him careening into the arms of one of his friends.

"Haven't you both done enough damage? I'll deal with him." She snapped and turned to crouched down next to Loki who had scrambled over the back of the couch to lie down dazedly. The bleeding from his lip had stopped but there was an ugly bruise forming across his jaw where Thor had struck and his green eyes were moving in and out of focus even as she watched.

"Idiot." She muttered fondly and gently touched his lip with the tip of her forefinger. Closing her eyes tightly she focused on the image of a sewing needled, pulling two pieces of fabric together seamlessly. Next she imaged a piece of rotten fruit revitalising itself as though time moved backwards. Combining the two images she focused on sending the currant of energy through her body and into his. She heard a gasp but continued to concentrate. Opening her eyes briefly she saw Loki's split lip had closed and there was no trace of bruising to be found around his mouth or chin. So far, so good.

"How did you-" One of the boys asked, only to be elbowed sharply in the ribs by a girl with hair the colour of midnight.

"Shut up Fandral, she'd working." The girl obvious called Sif scolded and Alva flashed her a brief smile of thanks. Reclosing her eyes she brought both her hands to Loki's temples and took a deep breath. Inside her mind she found the candle, as her mother had often called it, and gently coaxed the flame outwards, lengthening it down through her fingers and out into Loki.

"_Sidhyati__." _She breathed and felt the gentle flow of magic work its way from her into her friend. When the flow began to falter she withdrew and slumped slightly, catching the edge of the lounge as she fell. A hand steadied her and she looked up to see Thor staring down at her with a mixture of awe and concern on his face. He opened his mouth to say something but both were interrupted by her patient.

"Next time Brother, perhaps you should aim away from my face?" A soft drawl asked sarcastically from behind her and Alva grinned up at Loki who in turn was smirking up at his brother. Then she frowned.

"Idiots, the pair of you! What the Hel were you thinking?" She demanded, glaring at the pair heatedly until they looked away in shame.

"Princes of Asgard my foot, more like a bunch of squabbling infants; no… that's an insult to infants!" She muttered, moving to stand but tripping with fatigue. She hadn't used magic like that in over three months, her lessons had only started on her birthday and she was out of practice. Healing magic always drained a user of strength, no matter how long they had been using it. It came from their own chi whereas manipulations and illusions came from mental projections that only required strength of will and focus. Her mother and Merlon had reinforced these lessons over and over again, reminding her to never push the limits of her power. The consequences were simply too horrible to bear thinking about. Alva took a deep breath and moved to stand again, waving off Loki's hand as she walked away.

"That was amazing." A loud voice said and she turned to see a hulking figure of a boy with red hair, staring at her in open admiration. She blushed faintly.

"Thank you, but you lot are no better than they, encouraging them to fight on today of all days." She growled moving to sit down before the fire and stare into its flames.

"Aye, we should not have." Another boy, dark haired and solemn as a grave, agreed and Alva realised he was the only one in the room who had not spoken yet.

"I am sorry, I should not vex you when I do not even know your names." She said apologetically, staring at each of these strangers with a slight tilt of her head.

"I am Sif." The girl with midnight hair said, stepping forward proudly and banging her chest with a closed fist.

"I am training with these morons to become the greatest warrior Asgard will ever know." Sif went on and Alva nodded, smiling at the other girl softly. The three boys stood as one and moved to form a kind of triad as they faced her. One was beautifully featured, blond with a charming smile, the red haired giant's brown eyes sparkled merrily above a stomach that was already round enough to hide her entire body behind and the final boy, the taciturn one with dark eyes, was slight and dark. Together they formed an odd but somehow appropriate band of warriors.

"I am Volstagg," The the red haired boy brightly before indicating to the two boys beside him.

"Fandral and Hogunn, together we are the Warriors Three." He announced proudly and Alva smiled.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. I am Alva." She said simply and they stared at her.

"You are the elf?" Sif asked in amazement and Alva couldn't help but chuckle.

"Aye, as you can see we elves are quite ordinary." She said and hid her yawn behind her hand, already she tired from the effects of her magic.

"Except for the ears." Volstagg said without thinking and Alva's heart sank, making her shoulders slump slightly. What was it with these Asgardians and her ears? Where they really so strange? Thankfully a voice rang out from behind her, cutting off whatever had been about to be said at the tee.

"Leave off your four, now is not the time to harass her." Loki snapped, flinging himself off the couch with renewed vigour. Alva was proud to see that his eyes were clear as ever and there was no trace of even the slightest bruise upon his face.

"We apologise Alva." Fandral said immediately and the other three quickly nodded, smiling at her kindly from their positions around the fire.

"And I apologise Brother, for hitting you." Thor said after a moment's silence. Alva looked over to see Loki nodding thoughtfully.

"And… well, I guess I apologise for pointing out the obvious." He returned teasingly but a stern look from Alva immediately made him sober. He cast a sideways glance towards his older brother and sighed.

"I too am sorry Brother." He ground out and Thor grinned, clapping him on the shoulder brightly. All traces of bad temper and begrudgement had disappeared from his face and as the two of them broke out into identical grins Alva relaxed, knowing the crisis was well and truly averted. She went to speak but knock at the door interrupted her.

"Come children, it is time." Frigga ordered and there was a mad dash for the exit as the Warriors Three, Sif and Thor ran to the door. Loki rolled his eyes at her and Alva giggled with delight.

"We had best make after them." Loki said and Alva nodded, her grin slipping off her face as the sudden realisation of what was happening finally hit her. She began to twist her dress between her fingers and her shoulders slumped mournfully.

"He's really gone Loki." She said and it was obvious by Loki's face that she didn't need to elaborate. He moved over to her, taking her hand in his and leading her out of the common room after the others. The procession would start in the great hall, meander through the palace and into the lower town before circling back to the assigned spot where her father's tomb had been constructed. A quiet spot just inside the forest that grew upon the shores of the Endless Sea, looking out over the waters towards the Bifrost. The two of them walked slowly, Frigga following at a distance.

"I know you said I was welcome to stay but… everyone here seems to think I'm so strange." She said and stopped suddenly as Loki halted. He turned to face her.

"Whatever happens Alva, you can always rely on the House of Odin to keep its word." He said seriously and she nodded, trying to smile but failing miserably. Drawing breath she schooled her features into a smooth mask of indifference, taking his arm as she re-started their walk. Head held high and shoulders erect Alva reminded herself that she was a Princess and that, regardless of what happened to her, she needed to put on a brave face.

When they entered the great hall, loud trumpets blew and she saw a sea of faces staring at her as she made her way directly towards the litter her father's body lay upon. It stood in the direct centre of the room, surrounded on all sides by a magnificent crowd of Asgardians who all gazed at her in total silence. She lifted her chin haughtily and returned her gaze to her father's litter. The litter he rested on was a finely carved piece of craftsmanship, serving as both litter and coffin. An intertwining pattern of gold and silver swirls encased his petrified body on all sides and the twisting bars rose to cover him in a semi-solid elliptical casket of polished metal, creating intricate patterns that reflected the light. The litter was to be carried by four men, each of which stood unflinchingly before her, awaiting her indication to start. Behind them stood Odin, standing proudly in front of his throne and staring at her calmly with his one eye. She strode quickly across the vast room to stand before him. He tilted his head inquiringly and she nodded, her hand tightening momentarily upon Loki's arm. The All-Father raised his staff and tapped it once. The responding bang sounded like a peal of thunder in the silent room and it jarred the carriers into action. They snapped to attention and Loki moved to walk over to where his mother and brother stood, beside the All-Father, but Alva refused to let go of his arm.

"Please," She said simply and he looked askance towards his father. Odin's lips twisted into a rueful smile, then he shrugged and Alva relaxed, tugging on her friend's arm she moved self-consciously to the front of the casket under the entire rooms scrutiny and began to walk. As she moved the litter carriers filed smoothly in behind her. She didn't need to turn to know that Odin and the remaining members of his family were following suit, or that the crowd now shadowed it's king's movements. As dusk fell over Asgard the silent procession wound its way through the city, the tiny red haired figure at the front leading it down through the palace, into the lower town and around to the sea shore. There was a flat stretch of grassland that sloped gently up towards the forest, which on the next rise teetered on the edge of a small cliff that overlooked the sea. On that cliff, a few paces back from the edge was a round marble dome that caught the light of the setting sun. The fiery sunset was turning the scene a ruby-gold that made Alva think of autumn leaves and flame, all but setting the white marble on the hilltop alight. She turned and motioned to the All-Father who whirled to dismiss his people. They had done their duty and paid their respects, they needed not to remain now. Slowly the majority of the crowd pivoted and made its way back to the golden citadel, leaving Odin, Frigga, Thor, the Warriors Three and of course herself and Loki behind. Together they trudged up the slight hill and the wrought iron gates of the mausoleum were opened to admit the litter and its precious cargo. With a respectful bow to their King and to her, the litter carriers also disappeared. Disentangling herself from Loki, Alva stepped forward and placed her hand on the cool metal bars that encased her father, staring between them to see his beloved face one last time. It was smooth and bone white, solid as marble yet so terribly life like she felt certain that he would wake at any moment and scold her for all this foolishness. For a moment she was tempted to reach out and shake him, just to make sure, then she stopped herself and bowed her head.

"Goodbye Papa." She whispered softly and pressed two of her fingers to her lips before pressing them to the bars. Turning on her heel she walked out of the mausoleum. She breathed in the sight of sunset, smiling as the evening sky bloodied for its final time before the sun slipped below the western horizon and night fell over Asgard. Her heart clenched painfully within her chest and she gazed over at the awaiting family down at the foot of the hill. A family, she now realised, that was slowly becoming her own.

**Hurray, done and dusted with chapter two. Hope you liked it. Please review, it makes me so happy to know what you thought. **

**_Sidhyati - Sanskrit for Be healed/perfect_**


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